


Stranger

by meetmeatthecoda



Series: Katarina Chronicles [2]
Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Agnesgate, Angst, Drama, F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, So..., The angst is strong in this one, and i will forever be bitter that we didn't see flashbacks, and so is the agnesgate, look red just really loves agnes okay, sorry in advance, this is my angsty solution to that, to the 10 month coma period where he literally raised her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: "They race up the stairs to Lizzie’s floor as fast as they dare, guns out, peering around every corner as they ascend, not knowing what kind of surveillance Katarina might have in place, only pausing when they emerge from the stairwell on Lizzie’s floor, shocked into immobility by what they see there because –The apartment door is hanging open.Oh no."Set in 7A where Liz is more forthcoming with Red about her nanny suspicions. He subsequently discovers how Katarina has integrated herself into their lives. When Red rushes to rescue Agnes from Katarina's clutches, things are not quite as he expects. Angsty Lizzington & Agnesgate. Part 2 of Katarina Chronicles.
Relationships: Agnes Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Series: Katarina Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672366
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	Stranger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [codewordpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/codewordpumpkin/gifts), [theythinkimabitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theythinkimabitch/gifts).



It’s a cold, freezing feeling that overtakes him when he finds out.

Lizzie had, in passing, expressed to him her worry and unease about her babysitter, one of her new neighbors. Nothing serious, she had said, just something that had started to niggle at her. But Red had seen the worry in her eyes and filed it away.

(He knows she has a tendency to doubt her profiling skills these days. He doesn’t.)

So, for his own piece of mind, he ordered background checks on all of her neighbors, asked for them on a whim, not necessarily expecting to find anything serious, but wanting to check nonetheless, his overly protective nature making him willfully ignore Lizzie’s request not to pry.

(And the thought of little Agnes being in any sort of danger feels absolutely unacceptable to him.)

As he idly thumbs through the pages, sitting in his safe house with Dembe, he sees familiar families, students, seniors, all people who have been vetted by him in the past, nothing new, nothing surprising. He nears the end of the small stack of paper, expecting no crime lords, no drug dealers, no petty thugs, not expecting _anything at all_ –

Until he sees her.

Because there she is, her face unknown and familiar all at once, staring smugly up at him from her photograph, and all the pieces come together in a frigid, horrifying rush.

Katarina. Lizzie’s neighbor.

Her _babysitter_.

(No.)

“Katarina,” he breathes, growls, _swears_ , causing Dembe to look up at him in alarm.

But Red is already moving, and Dembe hurries after him, catching up and keeping pace as he strides out the front door and to the car, his mind whirling a mile a minute.

Lizzie is at the Post Office and therefore not at her apartment and it’s after 2:30pm which means that Agnes is out of school but Lizzie would never leave her home alone so that means that –

Katarina is with her right now.

They’re out on the street and to the car within seconds, Red hurling himself into the back and slamming the door as Dembe leaps into the driver’s seat and turns the key with a roar. Red yanks his handgun out of his holster and begins to check his rounds, muttering a stream of curses to himself as he does so.

It doesn’t matter that Lizzie specifically told him to get rid of her bodyguards, Red muses while Dembe drives, speeding towards her apartment. She could scream and yell and hate him all she wanted, it wouldn’t have mattered if it could have prevented Katarina from worming her way into Lizzie and Agnes’ life, in the building, _across the hall_ –

But it’s too late now.

Red’s heart constricts at the thought of Agnes. If Katarina has harmed one hair one her precious head –

No.

The Mercedes skids to a stop in front of Lizzie’s building in record time and Red bursts out of the back seat, unable to stop himself, and Dembe is seconds behind him, his second pair of eyes, his backup ears, his extra firearm.

They race up the stairs to Lizzie’s floor as fast as they dare, guns out, peering around every corner as they ascend, not knowing what kind of surveillance Katarina might have in place, only pausing when they emerge from the stairwell on Lizzie’s floor, shocked into immobility by what they see there because –

The apartment door is hanging open.

_Oh no._

His feet glued to the carpet of the hallway, Red can only tentatively crane his neck to peer into the apartment, but he can just barely see into the entrance hall. 

The apartment is shrouded in darkness.

And the sight of it, Lizzie’s familiar hall table and coat rack with a dim grey tinge in the dingy half-light reminds him horribly of another day and another set of frigid fears.

(Because the tips of his fingers are tingling, and his chest feels like ice and he’s getting forcibly thrown back to when he arrived at a different dark apartment to find her bleeding and she slept for _almost a year_ –)

And his gun begins to tremble as his hands start to shake.

“Raymond.”

Red startles violently, jolted out of the traumatic memory to find Dembe at his side, looking at him with concern.

“I’m fine,” he gasps, swallowing dryly past his fear and squaring his shoulders. “Split up.”

Dembe nods wordlessly, crouching into his stealthiest stance, and waits for Red to lead the way. But Red can only look back into the foreboding depths of the apartment, working his jaw.

It won’t be like last time, he thinks fiercely. Lizzie is safe at the Post Office. It’s Agnes that’s in danger this time.

He squeezes the butt of his gun, forcing the trembling to stop.

(Please not again. And not her. He won’t be able to cope if –)

No.

He can’t stall any longer.

(Agnes needs him.)

So, Red takes a steadying breath and creeps forward into the apartment.

They move slowly and silently into the darkness of the entrance hall, Red’s gun raised but trigger finger loose, fearing Katarina around every corner, but absolutely terrified of Agnes getting in between them. He makes it as far as the coat closet before pausing to glance at Dembe, who is covering his back, and nods subtly to their right. Dembe understands the message with no trouble and separates from Red, creeping instead down the back hallway of the apartment, towards the bedrooms.

He’ll check the back rooms and, if all is clear, find his way back to Red, one way or another. He always does.

Red continues on, entering the kitchen on silent feet, and sweeping his gun around the small room with caution. It’s empty but the chairs are pushed out at odd angles and there’s a hastily discarded lunch on the table: a half-drunk glass of milk and the majority of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut in half. Red’s heart clenches at the sight and he grits his teeth in anger.

(It’s all wrong. Agnes likes her PB&Js with _strawberry jam_ and cut into _quarters_.)

Red pushes forward, leaning slightly to one side to check behind the island before moving towards the living room, holding his breath as he turns the corner to see –

Agnes.

She’s standing in the middle of the room, illuminated gently by the few slivers of sunlight shining from in between the closed blinds, a stuffed bunny dangling from one hand and a coloring book and crayons abandoned on the floor near the dark TV. Red feels a rush of warm relief at the sight of her, evidently alone and unharmed.

“ _Agnes_ ,” he gasps, lowering his weapon immediately and taking half a step forward. “Are you –”

But that freezing cold re-enters his limbs in an instant as he sees movement in the darkness behind Agnes. He instinctively throws his weapon back up to aim at the shadow stepping forward that looks like –

_Katarina_.

Red’s blood runs cold in his veins.

She moves partway into the small pool of light illuminating Agnes, remaining halfway in the shadows as she hovers behind the girl, placing her filthy claws on her tiny shoulders with a nasty grin that’s _all for him_.

“Hello, Raymond,” she speaks quietly, and he instantly loathes the long-forgotten tones of her voice. “I see you’ve finally found us.”

Rage boils within him at her taunting words but he pushes it down to cool in the freezing fear he feels for Agnes as his gaze sweeps over his oldest enemy. She has no visible weapon and no conceivable place to conceal one in her comfortable “nanny” clothes. He somehow doubts that she would hurt Agnes either; her posture is not one of kidnapper and hostage. She seems to be standing so possessively behind Agnes just to prove a point.

(She’s never been one for subtlety.)

But, in this instance, Red finds himself grateful for her cockiness. It means he can focus solely on getting Agnes to safety. So, he ignores Katarina and her poisonous words, instead moving slowly to crouch down to Agnes’ level so he can look her in her eyes.

“Agnes,” he says again, holding out a hand, soft and kind and desperate to save her. “Come here, sweetheart.”

But Agnes frowns delicately at him, her brows creasing under her long bangs, and she speaks for the first time in her innocent little voice. “Mommy says it’s not safe to talk to strangers.”

And what’s left of his shredded heart dies in his chest.

Because she doesn’t remember.

Agnes doesn’t _remember him_ , he realizes, and all the time they spent together, that bittersweet year that he cared for her while Lizzie slept _endlessly_ –

And the grim scene in Lizzie’s living room disappears before his eyes as he falls headfirst into the memories, tinted with ever-present sadness, but brightly lit and beautiful in his mind’s eye:

_Red rocking baby Agnes to sleep, her tiny, onesie-clad form resting comfortably in his arms, her whole hand wrapped loosely around one of his fingers, dreaming safely in his arms –_

_Red reading to her, making a different, exaggerated voice for each over-acted character, relishing in her delighted squeals as she sits on his lap and pats the pretty pictures of her books –_

_Red holding Agnes in one arm and Lizzie’s picture in his other hand, telling Agnes stories of her brave mommy as she watches him and listens to his voice with rapt attention, reaching up to pat his face and coo when the tears start to slip down his cheeks –_

_Red pushing a slightly older Agnes on a swing, needlessly fretting and reminding her to hold on tight as she crows with excitement, pleading to be pushed higher and higher –_

_Red returning from a regrettably necessary trip, hearing her joyful giggles as she runs towards him, picking her up and swinging her high in the air, feeling happiness explode inside him as she wraps her little arms around his neck in a hug and squeals, “Wed! Wed!” –_

Katarina chuckles, low and mocking.

And, with that, he’s ripped out of the bittersweet memories and thrown back to the dark apartment where Agnes is clutching her grandmother’s evil hand, staring distrustfully at him while tears fill his eyes and his heart aches, and he thinks to himself –

Stranger. A _stranger_.

And there’s nothing he can do to mend the gaping maw, the frozen wasteland in his chest at the realization that Agnes, his dau—, _Lizzie’s child_ has _forgotten him_ , yes, she was young, but he thought she, he thought she would –

_“Agnes!”_

Lizzie’s voice, soaring through him like it always does as he springs to his feet and twists around to see her hurrying into the living room, her presence the only thing that could crack the ice immobilizing him because _she’s here –_

“Mommy!” Agnes cries happily, starting to move forward, clearly wanting to dart into Lizzie’s open arms, but Katarina grabs a firm hold of her arm.

“Not so fast, honey, your mother and I have to talk first.”

Lizzie freezes next to Red, seeming to realize that this isn’t going to be as easy as she was hoping. Agnes frowns but, perhaps sensing the danger in the room, says nothing more, letting Katarina pull her close, not that she has much choice in the matter by the look of Katarina’s white knuckles.

Red’s jaw tightens. How dare she use Lizzie’s child as a bargaining chip.

(Agnes is starting to look scared.)

Lizzie inhales deeply, sounding winded and, as close as Red is, he can hear her breath trembling slightly on the exhale.

(She’s scared too.)

“And what,” she asks, calmer but still with an undercurrent of worry in her voice. “could we possibly have to talk about… _Katarina_?”

Red swivels his head to stare at her, unable to contain his surprise. How long has she known that her babysitter “Maddy” is really her long-lost mother?

(And the question sounds even to him like the premise of an awful soap opera.)

But, Red thinks to himself, eyeing Lizzie’s frazzled appearance and heavy breathing, it may be a…recent development.

He turns back to face Katarina and Lizzie begins to talk again in a slow, soothing tone that Red knows is meant partially for Agnes’ benefit and partially to try and keep Katarina calm. He knows her efforts are useless though and he wishes he could tell her so. Although older now, Katarina is still a highly trained KGB agent; she won’t fall for any of Lizzie’s psychological tricks, however well executed.

So, as Lizzie talks, Red keeps a careful eye on Katarina’s hands, still tightly clutching Agnes and apparently weaponless, but Red doesn’t trust her for a second and, weapons or no, she’s still dangerous.

As words from their conversation filter through Red’s intense focus and icy fear, he vaguely registers that Katarina is trying to use Agnes to bargain for information, information that Lizzie clearly does not have. He hears words like “mother” and “answers” and “trust” and he scoffs inwardly. Katarina doesn’t know the meaning of any of them.

(She could never find it in herself to be a mother, let alone a grandmother to the precious little girl in her clutches, who is growing more visibly anxious by the second.)

As he watches, silent and completely focused on the safety of two of the women in the room, Red becomes aware of a familiar movement somewhere behind Katarina, just a slight shifting of the darkness that alerts him to a comforting presence, and he has to suppress a gleeful smirk.

Unbeknownst to Katarina – who is confident to a fault – someone has prowled down the back hallway, through Lizzie’s bedroom, out onto the fire escape, and then back into the apartment through an apparently open window to lurk in the shadows behind Katarina, waiting for the perfect opportunity to ambush her.

Dembe.

(And he always manages to find his way back to Red.)

Red risks a sideways glance at Lizzie, but her face registers no surprise or fear at what she sees across the room. Either she hasn’t noticed anything, or she realizes that it’s Dembe who has once again come to save the day. But whatever she knows, she’s still talking, prompting Katarina into responses and explanations that seem a little long-winded and repetitive, now that he thinks about it. But whenever Katarina seems to peter out, Lizzie spurs her on with more carefully calculated, gently accusatory words.

And then Red catches Lizzie’s wrist twitch, flashing her watch up towards her face, in a movement so quick that he almost misses it.

She’s stalling for time.

The FBI are on their way.

(That’s his girl.)

So, Red keeps his eyes carefully trained on Katarina, determined not to give away Dembe’s position, and starts thinking fast. The FBI could come bursting into the apartment at any second, and it would certainly be better to have Katarina secured when that happens, lest she try to make an ill-fated last stand with Agnes. So, with the minutes they have left, Dembe needs to make his move soon, but how could Red possibly get a signal to him with Katarina _right there_ –

“—and I took your advice on _everything_ ,” Lizzie is lamenting to Katarina, dramatic and hurt, starting to make a scene to keep her attention. “From your recipe for pumpkin muffins to the color of the _Chicago Skyline_ –”

And Katarina barely has time to frown in confusion before Dembe is melting out of the shadows to snake an arm like steel around her waist and press his gun to the small of her back, having the good sense to keep it out of Agnes’ sight so as not to frighten her.

Katarina looks stunned for a short moment, before she glances down at the color of the arm restraining her. “Oh, well done, you two,” she murmurs lowly, looking reluctantly impressed. “Perhaps you do have what it takes after all –”

But the rest of her sentence is drowned out by the sound of the door crashing open and FBI agents swarming in, Ressler and Park in their midst, all dressed in black protective gear and brandishing heavy shotguns, yelling loudly –

“FBI, nobody move! FBI, everybody _freeze_!”

And the surprise of it all has Katarina finally loosening her grip on Agnes and Red keeps his eyes glued to the girl as she looks up in fear at the imposing figures moving in to secure her grandmother and it seems to be the final straw for the poor thing as her face contours in fear and tears start to well up in her beautiful eyes –

_(Red’s eyes.)_

– and she takes off across the living room, clutching tight to her stuffed bunny and maneuvering easily through the legs of the agents filling the room, and she’s coming right for him, about to run right into his arms just like she used to, and he’s crouching down and holding out his arms, ready to wrap her up in his protective embrace, so relieved that she’s safe because he lov—

And Agnes sails right past him and into Lizzie’s arms.

(And he’s turned into an iceberg surely, with the splintering, shattering feeling that is shredding his heart and clawing his chest apart because _she doesn’t remember him_ –)

Red tries hard to ignore the illogical pain of it all as Lizzie calms Agnes as only a mother can, stroking her hair and whispering lovingly to her, clearly relieved to have her back safe and sound, in a way he has no right to –

He feels Dembe appear at his side.

“Katarina is secure,” he murmurs quietly to him, and Red rips his gaze away from Lizzie and Agnes to watch Katarina being marched out of the apartment in Ressler’s custody. “Pursue and reacquire?”

“No,” Red mutters, and Katarina chooses that moment to turn and give him a stone-cold look, the look of a rat finally caught in her own trap. He stares emotionlessly back at her. “No. Harold will make sure she goes away for a long time. Why don’t you go down to the car? I’ll be down in a minute.”

Dembe slips out of the room, stealthy as always, and Red makes a note to thank him later.

(And ask what exactly is so important about the skyline of Chicago…)

Red stays off to the side, quietly and unobtrusively occupying one of Lizzie’s armchairs. He keeps an eye on Lizzie for the duration, who is busy answering questions and giving statements to Agent Park, with Agnes tucked in her arms the entire time. The poor thing has calmed down, no longer crying but resting comfortably against Lizzie’s shoulder with her swollen eyelids growing heavy, her bunny still clutched under her arm.

(And now that he gets a good look at it, there’s something achingly familiar about that particular stuffed bunny –)

“Red?”

Lizzie is standing in front of him and the last few FBI agents are clearing out of the apartment. He blinks a few times.

“Are you alright?”

Red clears his throat. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you two alright?”

Liz rubs a hand across Agnes’ back. “Yes, we’re good, thank you. A little shaken up, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

Red nods slowly. “How did you know?” he asks after a long moment of silence.

Liz sighs. “I figured it out by accident, actually. When I found my nanny in the pile of suspect photos at the Post Office and…put the pieces together.”

“Ah,” he mutters, chewing on the side of his mouth. “I’m sorry that you had to find out that way.”

“Me too,” says Lizzie mildly, swaying back and forth as Agnes fusses a little in her arms. “I wish you just told me, Red, that the Paris woman was my mother. We could have figured all this out sooner.”

Red sighs, feeling equal parts guilty and stubborn. “She’s too dangerous, Lizzie. I was just trying to protect you both.”

“I know,” Lizzie sighs, suddenly both looking and sounding very tired. “And I know that you were just respecting my wishes by pulling the protective detail out of the building. And I appreciate that.” She shakes her head ruefully. “It figures that that’s the one thing we needed to stop all this from happening.”

Red winces. He is painfully aware that his desire to give Lizzie what she wanted was his downfall.

(It usually is.)

Lizzie just shrugs. “But she knew that. She capitalized on the distance between us and that was our mistake.”

Red just stares at her, feeling unspeakably sad, and not knowing what else to say.

(Lately, there has been far too much silence between them. And the artic expanse between them will take more than one conversation to heal.)

But Lizzie seems willing to take the first step.

“Do you wanna stay for some dinner?”

She sounds tentative but sincere and he is tempted to say yes, anticipating a meal together that may go a long way to helping them through at least the events of today, and maybe even make tomorrow easier, perhaps –

But then Lizzie shifts a little and Agnes peers over her shoulder, eyeing him shyly and with more than a little suspicion and he falls back into flashbacks once more:

_Red feeding Agnes her baby food, chuckling at her delighted giggles, waving her little, apple-and-pear covered fingers, accidentally smearing some on her –_

_Red teaching her how to hold a spoon, wrapping her little fingers around it and showing her how to scoop things up and bring them to her mouth, accidentally spilling a bit of chocolate pudding on her –_

_Red buying her favorite ice cream, a tall cone of strawberry with chocolate sprinkles, playfully telling her to hurry, while she licks and tries to beat the hot sun that is quickly melting her precious treat, dripping pink drops onto her –_

_Stuffed bunny,_ _the one that Red brought her when he first went to collect her after Lizzie’s accident, the one he tucked in her crib every night and then her big girl bed as she grew older, the one that calmed her better than anything when she was upset –_

The one she’s holding right now.

“Red?”

And Agnes’ words echo again in his mind:

_A stranger._

“I’d love to, Lizzie, but Dembe is waiting in the car, so I’m afraid I have to –”

He doesn’t wait for her to answer before he’s striding out of the living room, suddenly feeling awfully cold in the apartment with Lizzie and Agnes and his memories, bursting into the stairwell and taking the stairs as fast as he can.

Because after Tom and Katarina, Lizzie and Agnes have had more than enough strangers sharing their home. They don’t need another. Because, after all, that’s all he is to them, Lizzie and Agnes…

He shoves open the door to her street, rushing out into the sunlight that doesn’t feel at all warm, blinking tears from his eyes and feeling horribly, terribly alone.

…a stranger.


End file.
